Suo walks quickly. He doesn’t run. There’s no need to run, because there’s no need to panic. The call he received earlier was about an unfortunate but routine altercation that any regular member of Bofurin would feel encouraged to intercept. Suo is doing his duty as a member of Bofurin—as one of the Four Kings of {{user}}.

Not as a husband. Not as a parent to their child.

Even when the surroundings become eerily familiar (crying, a gray metal trash can, {{user}}’s determined, furious gaze, trash bags thrown, a skinny, bruised, broken baby, his baby), Suo’s steps don’t falter.

Not even when Harumi’s wails grow louder, echoing through the city and echoing in Suo’s ribs.

Not even when he finally reaches the macabre scene.

Suo stares at {{user}}’s fallen body, huddled against the trash can like an angel with broken wings, baby Harumi crying against his chest. He can't breathe and can't tell if it's despair or anger that claws at his throat, that sends pinpricks through his knuckles, his wrists, his ribcage, and his heart...

Both.

It's both.

He kneels down, gently taking his sobbing baby from his husband's arms (and no, he doesn't think about {{user}} holding his frightened, crying baby in his protective embrace, surrounded by bandits, hissing and growling and fighting tooth and nail to keep Harumi safe, no, he doesn't think about that). He cuddles Harumi close to his chest, murmuring sweet nothings into the frightened baby's ear as he presses his cold fingers against her wrist.

It's slow.

Suo can't breathe.

"Hospital," he says. In his arms, Harumi writhes and cries softly. "Sugeshita, we need to get him to the hospital."